Dark horizons
by wolf of infinity
Summary: The year is 1349, and the black plague is spreading throughout Norway. This is my take on the event, seen from a concerned little brother's point of view. Norway and Iceland brotherly relationship. Sad and angsty one-shot, hopefully historically correct.


_The year is 1349, and the black plague is spreading throughout Norway__. This is my take on the event, seen from a concerned little brother's point of view. Facts and translations will be explained in a note at the end, don't worry ^^ Also, I use the country names in this fic, as I didn't wish to come up with human names for them. There might be some differences to the real historic events, but I tried my best, people! ^_^''_

_Warnings: Some blood and angst, I suppose, though not anything too graphic. This fic contains Norway and Iceland brotherly relationship, no yaoi! I hope you'll enjoy it~_

_Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of its characters._

oOo

Iceland was very troubled. A heavy feeling had settled in his chest some time ago, and he wasn't sure what to make of it, other than that something was off. How long had it been since he'd last spoken with Norway, his older brother? Far too long.

It wasn't like they kept in touch all the time, but his brother was of the protective kind, despite his seemingly un-caring and cold mask, and he would call regularly to check up on his little brother. Still, he hadn't heard from Norway for months, and there had been no sight of his people either, and this was the reason for his worried heart.

Was something wrong? Norway wasn't under attack, was he? No, he knew few others that were as strong as his brother when it came to fighting off enemies, and he also knew for a fact that he would have heard of it if there was a war going on. He wasn't _that_ secluded from the rest of the world.

Sighing, Iceland stood from his seat and walked over to the window, peering out on the clear blue skies. Running a hand through his silvery white hair, he decided. With a determined expression in his eyes, he went to fetch his travelling cloak. It was time he paid his brother a little visit, he needed to find out if anything was wrong. If he didn't, he'd just worry himself to death, and if that proved to be without reason then his brother would not be happy.

Norway was proud, that much was certain. He never wanted anyone to worry about him, and always tried to fix whatever problems – or challenges, as he would call them – that came his way, all by himself. Iceland decided that he would pretend that he simply wanted to pay a friendly visit, pretend that he wasn't there because he 'hadn't heard from him and grew concerned'.

The boat ride was rather long and harsh as he crossed the angry seas, but it went mostly without trouble. Iceland was well-known with the moods of the ocean, and knew how to handle it.

Eventually, he reached the shore of his brother's land, and had almost managed to convince himself that his worries were probably just stupid and irrational. As he stepped out of his boat, however, he immediately knew something was wrong. It was far too silent, almost as though there wasn't a living creature within miles. Many of the houses looked abandoned and run-down, and the air seemed stiff and heavy.

Frowning, he headed in the direction of Norway's house. The usually tranquil and idyllic lands seemed almost threatening in the dim morning light, and his heart beat faster and more rapidly as he walked. Where were all the people? The animals? Where was the sound and life that usually filled both cities and country sides alike? Something was definitely off.

He thought he caught sight of a few, pale faces in the windows of houses as he passed, but they disappeared as soon as he glanced in their directions. Sure, Norway's people were somewhat cautious of nature, but they were always welcoming and kind when someone came to their lands.

Seeing the house in the distance, on a small hill, he quickened his pace, walking with a sense of foreboding up the path to the building. The grass in the garden was clearly untended to, and the weeds had as good as taken over for the colourful flowers that usually filled the flower beds. Only the tall trees looked as they usually did, looming over him as he reached the porch.

It was as though nature was holding its breath, he noticed. Not even the smallest of breezes could be felt on his skin, which was highly unusual for the normally windy country.

Knocking on the front door, he heard no movement from inside. His fist met the door again, a little harder this time, but there was still no response. Odd… Wasn't he home? The house seemed quiet, almost as though no one lived there anymore. He wouldn't have just moved, however, Iceland was certain of this. And even if he'd been forced to, he would have let Iceland know, wouldn't he?

"Norway?" he called out, his voice coming of as a bit more uncertain and worried than he would have liked. Trying the door, he found to his surprise that it was open. Pushing it open, he headed inside, looking around. Cobweb had collected in some of the corners, and a layer of dust covered just about everything in sight. That was certainly a new reason for concern; Norway was careful to maintain the house's normally clean and dust-free state.

"Norway, are you home?" he walked further in, his shoes clicking against the wooden floor as he moved from the entrance hall to the kitchen. He found it deserted, and although there were traces of usage, they weren't exactly recent.

Heading back out, he checked the rooms on the first floor, finding them just as empty as the previous. Heading up the stair case to the second floor, he became aware of a sound, however. A soft thud. Quickening his pace, he swallowed heavily. The sound had come from his brother's study, hadn't it?

Upon reaching the room, he halted slightly to knock politely on the door. Norway did value his privacy, after all, so he didn't want to just barge in. When he received no answer, he opened the door slowly. His eyes immediately widened and he let out a startled cry at the sight that met him.

Norway was lying on the floor, pale as the snow that could still be seen on his nation's looming mountain tops, and much too thin and frail-looking.

"B-Brother!" Iceland gasped, darting over to Norway's side and falling to his knees next to him. By the look of things, his brother had been sitting at his desk, but had attempted to move, only to fall, taking some sheets of paper with him, which lay scattered on the floor.

His brother's skin was clammy to the touch, and upon resting his hand on his forehead, he found that he had a terrible fever. He was breathing – _thank God_ – but it was laboured and strained. It sounded almost as though he was drowning, the way his throat gurgled when he rasped for air.

"Brother, w-what's wrong? Are you sick?" Iceland asked, his normally neutral voice trembling with fear for his brother's health and life. At first he got no response, but then Norway managed to open his eyes, blinking up at him, as though he had trouble seeing him. Those pale blue orbs were coated in heavy emotions and clouded with fever, pain and – Iceland almost couldn't believe it – fear.

"I-Ic-" he broke of as a heavy bout of coughs made his hand fly to his mouth. Iceland felt his blood run cold at the hacking sound, soon followed by a splattering one. When Norway pulled his hand away, Iceland could see the blood running from his palm, and down his chin from his parted lips.

"Iceland…" Norway managed to murmur, and the look in his eyes when he looked up at his younger brother was so agonized and frightened that Iceland felt as if his heart would break. "They're dying… Everyone… so many d-dead… I can hear them… screaming, crying… _Å Gud, det gjør så vondt_…!" his voice broke of into a sob, tears forcing their way down his cheeks.

"W-what's happening, brother?" Iceland asked. He didn't understand, what was going on? 'Everyone', he'd said. Was something happening to his people?

"She's here… _Pesta_…"

Iceland felt all colour drain from his own face at those words. A long time ago, Norway had told him a tail about an old woman clad in black. It had been a story that fascinated Iceland, yet one that scared him. He remembered Norway's words so clearly…

'_Wherever Pesta goes, death will follow. She carries with her a broom and a rake, and moves from farm to farm. If she brings out her rake, some will survive, but if she uses her broom, everyone dies…'_

It was an old Norwegian folklore; the personification for a plague. Iceland had never believed in it, although Norway held firm that the myths and legends from his country were all true – or at least based on truth. He'd been proven right before.

"There's a plague? Why didn't you tell me, I could have tried to help!" the small nation exclaimed, taking his brother's hand, which felt cold to the touch.

"No, you would… have gotten sick too…" Norway whispered. The strong, mighty nation was broken now. "I t-tried to… find a cure… someway to help them, but…" Iceland now took a closer look at the papers and the heavy, old books lingering on the desk next to a dying candle. There were medicine documents, books about old ointments, even one on ancient magic. He had tried so hard…

"C-couldn't anyone else have helped you? Why haven't I even heard of this?" he cried, unable to contain his emotions. For once, Norway didn't seem to care about masks or pretences, either. He looked so much like an old, worn-out and fallen warrior, and this really scared Iceland.

"I'm not the… only one hit by this… The whole of Europe is struggling."

"What? Everyone is this sick?" Iceland felt even more frightened than before. What would become of Europe if all the nations fell to this disaster? And why on earth hadn't his nation been affected?

"N-no…" Norway looked saddened. "I think… I got hit harder than the rest… My nation might be quite large, but my population is not…"

"You have to rest, come on," Iceland said, trying to pull his brother up. He found that he could lift the taller nation easily into his arms – he was so light, probably from the large amount of deaths among his people – but Norway gave a sound of protest.

"N-no… I need to find a way… to help them!" His body shook as he coughed violently, and then, with a last moan of pain, he fell limp in his arms.

"Brother?" Iceland gasped, and froze for second before he could hear that he was still breathing. Carrying him out of the room, he blinked away the tears that clouded his sight and headed over to the bed room, opening the door with his elbow and moving inside. The bed looked like it hadn't been slept in, and even that had a layer of dust covering it. Had Norway been working on this the entire time…? The thought brought more tears to his eyes, but he sniffled and bit his teeth together in an attempt to stay strong.

Laying the sleeping nation in his bed, he found more pillows, so that he could be eased into a more comfortable position, where he could breathe more easily. Sitting by his bed, Iceland felt absolutely helpless. What the hell could he do? Nothing. Nothing at all. He had no way to stop this damn plague from spreading and killing every part of his brother's population, men, women and children alike. The thought made him want to scream out in frustration, but he didn't dare to make a sound, because he knew he'd just start to cry again.

oOo

He stayed in Norway's home for a long time, taking care of him in the best way he could. When sleeping, Norway would twist around in pain, muttering about screams and death and poor, suffering children. The younger of the two nations managed to wake him up from time to time to eat or drink something. Still, he was feverish, and even when awake, he would mutter incoherently or cry out in agony.

Time seemed to blend, and days became weeks, which in time became months. And as time passed, the plague finally seemed to lose its hold on the suffering nation. Either it had killed everyone and everything there was to kill, or the plague had been chased away by the cold weather that crept upon them.

Iceland made his way up the stair case, bringing a tray with some food for his brother, if he would wake up. He was aware of the fact that he had grown thinner himself, and tired. Constant worry for his brother's life had haunted him ever since he visited the first times, and he'd hardly left Norway's side, except for when he needed to go back home to tend to official business.

His boss wasn't too happy about it, but Iceland couldn't be stopped. Even so, he knew that he didn't have the strength to keep this up for much longer. He had his own country to take care of, and this extra responsibility was heavy on his shoulders. He wouldn't just give up, though, his brother needed him now, needed _someone_ to be there. Besides, Norway would have stayed if it was Iceland who was sick – he already had on several occasions.

Reaching the bed room, he walked inside after a soft knock. Even after this time, he still maintained the polite habit. When he entered, he stopped suddenly, staring with wide eyes.

Norway stood in front of the large window, gazing out on the light layer of snow that had covered his lands, colouring the landscape in a gentle light. Not only was he standing on his own, without assistance from his brother, he actually looked somewhat like his old self – straight backed and proud. His skin was still terribly pale, and dark shadows rested beneath his eyes, but his expression had a strong look that Iceland hadn't seen in a long time. He looked so… wise, Iceland thought, and he had to swallow the lump that made itself present in his throat.

"It's over, little brother…" Norway murmured quietly, without turning fully to him. Iceland felt a sharp sting of fear in his chest. Over? Did he mean that it was too late to save him? That he would… "It seemed she carried her rake when she came to my country…" He turned and gave a tiny smile.

The rake… meaning that some had survived? Iceland couldn't hold in anymore. He'd tried to keep his feelings at a bay, staying strong for his brother, but now all the emotional barriers crumpled and he hiccupped. Setting the tray on a small table by the door, he put his quivering hands before his face, and cried.

"I w-was so scared! I thought you would…_Oh thank goodness…_!" he heard soft foot steps and then felt thin yet still strong arms wrap around him, holding him securely. He buried his face in his the shoulder of his brother's night shirt and wept.

"I'll be ok, little brother. Everything will sort out somehow, you don't have to be afraid anymore," Norway soothed, his deep, gentle voice feeling like the sweetest lullaby in Iceland's ears.

Iceland glanced up and caught the determined expression in Norway's blue eyes, finding that, no matter how unlikely the idea had seemed earlier, he had no trouble believing his brother's words.

oOo

_Whoa… I've never written a historically correct fanfiction (at least I hope it's historically correct) It was… fun~! :3 Please give me a review telling me what you thought, it would be most appreciated~_

_Å Gud, det gjør så vond__t = __Oh God, it hurts so much_

_Pesta – She is, like described, made out to be an old woman clad in black, carrying a broom and a rake, and is the personification of the black plague. Lots of Norwegian painters painted pictures of this figure, and well… she looks like a female grim reaper, not exactly bright and cheerful ^_^'' Just type in "Pesta" in Google or something, some pictures should come up~_

_By the way, this personification most likely appeared __after__ the plague, but still, for the sake of the story… just pretend not to know that, ok~? ^_^''_

_Now for some historical facts, if you're interested~ The Black plague (black death, bubonic plague or whatever) reached Norway in 1349 (well that's the set time, it might have arrived late in 1348). Because Norway didn't have that big a population, it suffered greatly from the plague, possibly more so than any other nation. It's believed that at least 2/3 of the population died, and over thousand farms were left empty. Other epidemics in the following years kept the population down, and the country suffered economically._

_I'm not an expert in this history, but this incident eventually led to the union between Denmark and Norway, which would last for another four hundred years._

_Oh, and btw. Since Iceland and some other islands (don't remember, as I lost my reference earlier) were so far away, they weren't affected. People that tried to travel there while being infected by the plague, died before they could reach land, and their skips strayed of to God-knows-where, since no one were alive to steer them. Sad… though not so sad for Iceland ^_^''_


End file.
